Not the sort of place you'd expect to find corn-fed chicken with morels or pigs' trotters with veal sweetbreads, yet both dishes are on the menu at Footscray's Station Hotel.

Executive chef Sean Donovan comes to the inner west with considerable experience in Michelin-starred restaurants. So if you breast the bar at this convivial watering hole, and look beyond the oysters and well-executed steaks, you will find some very special treats and they won't put a big dent in your wallet.

FOOD

"START with the best and don't muck around with it too much." That's Donovan's mantra at the Station and our starter marinated ocean trout with buckwheat blinis ($15) proves the point. Gossamer-fine folds of fish, steeped in lemon-lime zest, are spread under a blanket of frisee lettuce, endive and cress, with petite pancakes on the side and two garnishes: horseradish and a gribiche (mayonnaise-style) sauce with salmon roe.

The Station salad ($8) also testifies to careful provisioning, with not a leaf out of place and snap-fresh peas lending crunch.

Three seriously good soups are listed the night we dine: seafood, onion, and pea and ham (known colloquially as London Particular). Our Moorish soupe de poissons ($12) in a ceramic urn is almost filled to the brim with a dense, umber-coloured brew that sings of the Mediterranean. Cumin, paprika, coriander, garlic, fennel, tomato ... it's all lurking in there with discs of buttery toast ready for dipping.

There are some handy pasta options, too: a tangy spaghetti bolognaise cut through with peas and fresh ricotta, and earthily appealing gnocchi teamed with cavelo nero and sweet-tasting pippies.

A whole school of fish (hapuka, baby snapper and flounder) beckons, and the sirloins and scotch fillets heading out of the kitchen look hugely appealing. But I can't go past a sturdy cassoulet ($28), which is brought to the table in a rustic ramekin. In France this lip-smacking dish commonly combines beans and sausage with pork or duck. The slow-cooked Station version respects tradition with white beans (still nicely firm) and three varieties of continental snag (Toulouse, Lyonnaise and Hungarian beef), but there's braised kid (capretto) under that toasty breadcrumbed topping. And this meat is so darn tender it almost melts.

Sean crosses the Channel for steak and kidney pie ($28) and delivers a beauty: livery offal and succulent meat under a high dome of bronzed puff pastry with a moat of red wine sauce so dark it could pass for chocolate.

The Station's cheese selection is no afterthought: Irish blue anyone? Or a Scottish cheddar? But leave room, whatever you do, for dessert. The bread and butter pudding ($12) here is a marvel because Sean follows rules laid down by legendary French chef Anton Mosimann: day-old baguettes and double cream, eggs and sultanas, and an apricot glaze. Hot Valrhona chocolate cake with rhubarb jam is worth a look as well.

STAFF

THE waiter-diner ratio here is better than many pubs and staff in dark blue shirts, black slacks do a good job ferrying dishes, replenishing water and pouring wines by the glass at the table.

DRINK

WINE drinkers may find a few gems on the Station's "small but interesting" list, but beer is perhaps better suited to the robust food. The choice is impressive: 20 bottled beers, five tap and two King Browns, including a deliciously hoppy Mountain Goat Organic Steam Ale ($16). Also look for four varieties of ciders and whiskies galore.

X-FACTOR

NO mod makeovers here.

The Station dining room is a pleasing space but it can get noisy. Amenities are well below par.

VALUE

SEAN wants the Station to be "an accessible dining experience where technique and quality of produce is uncompromised". He's succeeding.

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